


Baking

by wintercreek



Series: Singing the Journey 'Verse Moments. [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Baking, College, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercreek/pseuds/wintercreek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finals week, junior year, in the <em>Singing the Journey</em> 'verse, May 2015.</p><p><em>"Kurt, it's 4 in the morning. </em>What<em> are you doing?" Blaine asks, walking into their cramped kitchen.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking

**Author's Note:**

> Timestamp ficlet for the [Singing the Journey](http://archiveofourown.org/series/11587) 'verse. Takes place in May 2015, one and a quarter years before _Singing the Journey_ begins.
> 
> Thanks to [Les](http://moreorlesme.tumblr.com/) and [fountnofthought](http://fountnofthought.livejournal.com/) for betaing.

"Kurt, it's 4 in the morning. _What_ are you doing?" Blaine asks, walking into their cramped kitchen.

"Baking," Kurt says, voice mild. "I should think that would be obvious." He doesn't turn around, just keeps shaping the cookies he's arranging.

Blaine sighs. He'd woken up because Kurt's side of the bed was cold and empty. He knows there's no benefit to both of them being strung out and exhausted tomorrow, especially not when he has a final in the morning for his European medieval music class. On the other hand, he doesn't like the thought of going back to bed and leaving Kurt to cope alone with whatever's keeping him up.

Kurt slides the cookie sheets into the oven and finally turns to face Blaine. "Yes?"

"I woke up and you were gone." Blaine leans on the counter. "Or maybe you never came to bed in the first place. You need to sleep some. It doesn't matter how much coffee you'll have tomorrow."

"I know," Kurt admits, slumping against the fridge. "I just—"

"You what? Why on earth are you baking in the middle of the night?" Blaine frowns. "Are you sucking up to one of your professors?"

Kurt laughs thinly. "No. I'm trying to keep it together, Blaine, that's all. I shouldn't have taken the extra classes this term, but I did, and now I have to get everything done and, you know, pass all of them. I'm never taking academic overload again, I promise you."

Blaine steps closer to him and puts a hand on Kurt's arm, stroking it from shoulder to elbow. "Hey. You'll do it. And then I agree, never again." He waits a moment before adding, "Do you think you could stop with the baking and get some sleep?"

They're close enough that it only takes a step for Kurt to be flush against Blaine, head tilted tiredly down to rest on Blaine's temple. "You know, I used to tell people that I started cooking because my dad was so helpless in the kitchen after my mom died. I'm sure I've told you the story about the chicken he made that was still raw inside. And it's true – that was part of it. But it's not all of it."

"Yeah?" Blaine prompts. He moves his hand, sliding it over Kurt's back.

"When you're a kid, you're not in control of most of your life. I think that's true of almost everyone. But when a parent dies ... it gets weird. You get shuffled around, and sometimes you don't have any say at all, and other times you have way too much to handle on your own. I did, anyway. Cooking was one of those things that was probably too much for an eight-year-old to handle. But I liked it. I liked contributing. And then I started baking. You know why you're so hopeless at baking?" Kurt smiles softly.

Blaine shrugs. "No patience?" He knows he takes things out of the oven too soon and doesn't read the whole recipe before starting.

Shaking his head, Kurt says, "Not enough precision. Baking is about doing things exactly right, at least until you've done them so many times that you can get it right without thinking about it. You don't measure things closely enough, you don't look to see something's really done before you set it out to cool."

The timer beeps. Kurt steps away and checks his cookies. "Three more minutes," he says. "So I started cooking for my dad and me, after Mom died, and I wanted sweets because I was a kid, and hey, baking didn't look that hard." He closes his eyes. "It wasn't hard, once I knew what all the words meant. More than that, though, it was something I could control absolutely. Whenever the world was too much – too big, too lonely, too empty – I could bake and make perfect cupcakes, just the way I wanted them to be."

"Oh," Blaine breathes. He's reviewing the past years in his head, trying to recall every time Kurt's baked something for him.

"It's not all about that," Kurt says quietly. "Sometimes it's as simple as making a treat for someone. I'm good at baking. I've done it so much that it's easy. It's fun."

"But tonight—" Blaine cocks his head.

Kurt nods. "Tonight is— I feel so out of control. I took on too much. This is something I can do that's not complicated or overwhelming." He looks at Blaine. "I'll come to bed as soon as they're on the cooling racks, I promise. I'm sorry you got up."

Blaine turns away from Kurt and opens the cabinet, going on tiptoes to reach their mugs. "It's okay," he says as he pulls two down.

"What are you doing? Go back to bed," Kurt tells him.

"I like fresh cookies." Blaine looks over his shoulder at Kurt. "I thought maybe they'd go with some of that mint tea that puts you to sleep. With some milk in it?"

"Yeah. I think they would." Kurt kisses Blaine's cheek. "Thanks." Then the timer beeps again and he pulls the cookies out.

Blaine digs in their tea cabinet until he finds the right box. He'll only be a little blearier in the morning, and it's impossible to regret that when the extra time awake means a quiet moment with Kurt. And fresh cookies.


End file.
